


Under Stress

by BlehTrim



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Bottom Thomas Jefferson, Don't Like Don't Read, I'm Bad At Tagging, Omorashi, One Shot, What Have I Done
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-07
Updated: 2019-04-07
Packaged: 2020-01-06 06:45:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18383114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlehTrim/pseuds/BlehTrim
Summary: Thomas Jefferson is late to the cabinet meeting due to sleep deprivation and turns out he forgot to do something important...





	Under Stress

**Author's Note:**

> IM SORRY OKAY  
> It's the first fanfic I ever posted on here, sooo don't take it too seriously.  
> I'm not a native English speaker, I'm from Germany, so if there is an error, let me know so I can fix it.
> 
> I had this fanfiction on my tablet for months and I decided it should be time to post it.
> 
> Disclaimer: CONTAINS OMORASHI (pee desperation)  
> You're warned.
> 
> And, one last thing, constructive criticism is always welcome. If I feel like you're trying to be mean though, I'll delete your comment.
> 
> Good, now that that's out of the way...  
> Let's begin.

The morning sun shone through the small window in Jefferson's living room. The dust particles danced in front of his eyes as he wrote his last paragraph of the document President Washington requested.  
Bent over his desk, his bloodshot eyes darted from line to line of neatly written text. His white blouse reeked of sweat and the bottom of his pants were damp from the sweat of sitting so long but he didn't care at the moment. He'd have to change later.  
He dunked his quill in the glass bottle of ink and leaned back. He sighed relieved and picked up the papers again, looking at them proudly.  
Finally, finally he finished this beast of work. Now, he just had to let the ink dry and stuff the paper in his leather bag to take them to the cabinet meeting later. The meeting was scheduled for that day, 11 am until 1 pm. Since the issue they would discuss lied deeper, Jefferson assumed the meeting would take longer though.  
He turned his head to look out of the window. The sun, high in the sky, the fence of his own garden and the wild grass behind it made him feel calm and peaceful. Now that early summer came, the sun would stand high earlier than before and stay longer-

Wait.

What time was it if the sun already stood this high?

He jumped from his wooden chair and quickly walked out of the room and into the small kitchen, where he threw his purple jacket over the chair the previous day.  
He grabbed it and stuck his hand into the inner pocket. As he pulled out his silver pocket watch, he threw the jacket back over the chair.  
He opened the watch and stood in horror as he saw the time.

11.26 am.

He was almost half an hour late to the meeting.

He's never been late before, he always was on time, organized and coordinated. Washington was going to kill him.

Sprinting into his bedroom, he threw on a different shirt, his purple vest and changed into a fresh pair of pants. He buttoned his shirt messily, not bothered to waste his time on it. 

Jefferson threw on his coat, grabbing his notes from the last cabinet meeting a week ago and the document he drafted for Washington, storming out the door of his temporary apartment, slamming it shut. His feet flew down the stairs, almost tripping, and rushing on the streets. The building where the meeting was taking place was only a few blocks away, so he decided to run. At the moment he didn't care he'd smell of sweat when he'd get there. He just wanted to arrive as soon as possible.  
Washington was going to cut off his head and use it as a trophy. He relied on punctuality with his trusted secretary. Discipline and coordination were the key to a productive work environment, Jefferson knew, and he always worked hard and organized on anything Washington asked of him.

While running, he noticed a quite pressing issue: he hadn't used a bathroom for a while. His bladder felt a bit uncomfortable but nothing he couldn't handle. He just didn't know if Washington would let him go in the cabinet meeting later since he was already late.

 

He arrived only a few minutes later, practically slamming the large doors open and storming inside. He hurried down the hallway, knocking on a large door on the left. He took a deep breath and pushed the door open. He was greeted with the sight of the familiar, long table, Washington in the middle and Hamilton, Burr and Madison positioned around him. A smaller group than usual, Jefferson thought to himself.  
Trying to catch his breath, he sighed in relief of finally being there, even if was half an hour late.

 

"Decided to show up as well, Jefferson?" He heard Hamilton sneer, "You are the only one late."  
His hatred for the man grew every time he opened his mouth; as if he never made a mistake.  
Who did he even think he was? 

Jefferson turned his attention towards Washington, deciding to simply ignore Hamilton, even though it was hard not to lash out at him.

"I apologise for my belated appearance. I hope it didn't cause too much of an inconvenience, sir." He prayed that his apology would be taken serious and accepted. He swore he  
could see Hamilton roll his eyes in the corner of his eyes. What a prick.

Washington sighed "Just take a seat and we'll get started. We have to catch up on time so we'll start without further inconvenience."  
Jefferson wondered if they waited for him or if they've already started. He really hoped they didn't wait, he'd feel bad, even if he wouldn't admit it.

 

Jefferson sat down on the nearest chair, arranging his notes. Only then, the need to go to the bathroom got worse. The urge was pretty pressing; he wondered how he would make it, if he'd even make it. If he went at his apartment, he wouldn't have that problem now. If he had just watched the time, he wouldn't be late, wouldn't be in this awkward situation. 

Well done, he thought.

He crossed his legs, trying to look like his usual cocky self. The time passed, seemingly no end in sight. His concentration on the things being said slipped, his aching bladder demanding all of it. The meeting seemed to never end. He looked at his watch, realising he's only been here for about ten minutes. When he looked around he saw Hamilton in a heated argument with Burr about something he didn't care about at the moment. Everything he could think about was how badly he needed relief. 

For the better part of half an hour, Jefferson kept discreetly pressing his thighs toghther and concentrated on not looking too obviously desperate.

He pressed his thighs together, squirming ever so slightly in his seat, praying nobody would notice. His face grew hot at the thought of the others, especially Hamilton, knowing of his predicament. That couldn't happen, he wouldn't let that bastard get the satisfaction of seeing a weakness in Jefferson. Never in his life he would let him live it down. He'd always stay the kid who couldn't wait to go to the bathroom. 

"Are you alright, Jefferson? You have been quiet for quite a while." 

His head shot up from his notes, surprised. He'd been lost in thought. Washington looked at him concerned. 

Well done, now you've attracted attention, Thomas scolded himself. He wondered whether he could play it off without raising any questions.

"I'm fine. Thanks for asking, Mr President.", Jefferson responded, trying hard to sound calm. Hamilton and Burr stopped arguing to look at Jefferson. Appearently, everyone noticed his nervous body language, being quiet and the worried look on his face. He felt himself blush even harder. The silence in the room was killing him. He tried hard to keep still, to keep his dignity. 

"You don't look fine, are you feeling sick?", Washington pressed the issue further.

A wave of desperation overcame Jefferson's senses. His thighs almost automatically pressed together, his ancles crossed. At this point, he wasn't sure whether he would even make it to the bathroom if Washington allowed him to go. 

He opened his mouth to say something, but he only managed to get out a whimper. He brought a hand up to his face, hiding his eyes from their glances. Now they all know something was up.  
If he only took the minute to use the bathroom before coming here, he wouldn't be in this situation. It wouldn't have made that much of a difference if he was another few minutes late. He felt like an imbecile.

"I'm good, thanks. I just have a little cold" his voice sounded a lot more whiny than he intended to. 

The other men went back to discussing the issue, Hamilton louder than anyone.

He tried to discreetly squeeze the tip of his penis through his pants. The moment he gave his crotch a firm squeeze, he felt a small bit of relieve. His face heated up again, knowing that if someone looked at him now, they'd find him holding his dick like a child who can't wait to go to the bathroom.  
He should have checked if someone was looking at him before grasping at his penis because he met eyes with Washington. Jefferson took his hand from his crotch as quickly as possible, his eyes widening with realization that someone just saw him grab himself like a child. Not only somebody but fucking General George Washington. Who just cocked his head to the side questioning, though not saying anything. Jefferson was sure Washington knew.

He looked around, finding the three others distracted in the discussion.

Jefferson ground his hips into his seat for friction, not being able to resist. A sharp pang of pain shot through his bladder. A quiet moan escaped his lips before he could cut it short.  
He felt all the other's glances on him, closing his eyes to try and block it out. If someone would look at him now, it would be obvious he was dying for a leak. When he opened his eyes again, he noticed Hamilton, Burr and Washington looking at him. Madison seemed occupied with taking notes, not minding any business towards Jefferson, who was grateful.

He knew they knew. It was painfully obvious at this point. Hamilton's expression was filled with not disgust but mischief, which didn't surprise Jefferson. 

Then, he leaked. 

Realization dawned on him, panic setting in. It took all of his might to stop it. He automatically let his hands fly into his crotch in a desperate attempt to hold it. He felt that his control was slipping, his dignity crumbling down to ruins of what was left.

When he felt the second leak spurting out, he let his forehead fall on the table, blocking out all of the others glances. The room fell silent, he knew what the others were thinking. 

Washingtons voice broke the silence. "Jefferson, do you need a break?"

Jefferson clutched at his dick openly now. He couldn't hold on if he took his hand away. A drop of sweat rolled down his back. Was it hot in there? 

He shook his head, still unable to look them in the eye. His forehead sticking to his papers on the table, he moaned when he felt another, way longer spurt escape. His hand grew wet; it took him some seconds to stop again. He hissed in pain, having witnessed relieve being cut short. He could swear the seat was wet already. 

"Thomas," He lifted his head at the use of his name, "You can just go to the bathroom, you're excused."

Tears welled up in Jefferson's eyes, his voice quiet and desperate

"Yes, sir"

Jefferson felt urine soaking through his hand, splattering onto the floor. He grasped his dick hard until his knuckles turned white. He cut off the stream even though he couldn't even tell why he was still trying so hard. He probably wouldn't make it anyway.

He groaned in pain, still trying desperately to hold on.  
He got up from his seat, the chair screeching over the wooden floor. 

The sudden change in position was the last push his bladder needed to let loose. 

Before he knew it, urine splattered onto the ground. He tried to cut it off again but merely managed to slow the flow a little bit. Deciding it's time to give in, he took his hand from his crotch. The stream went full force right away, pouring onto the ground. The relief was amazing, almost orgasmic. His sighs of relief couldn't be contained.

When it tapered off, a few moments later, the room was awkwardly silent. Jefferson imagined their thoughts, he'd be disgusting and disgraceful. Even Madison, his friend, would be too embarrassed to work with him from now on.  
His eyes were glued to the ground, looking at the mess he made. He couldn't look anyone in the eye, simply being too embarrassed. 

Washington was the one to speak up first.  
"As I was saying, you're excused. Clean yourself up; return after, please."  
Jefferson swore he could hear a hint of empathy in his voice.

He nodded. "Thank you, sir."


End file.
